


' i think this time i'm dying '

by JUBILEE_L1NE



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fantasizing, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Attraction, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JUBILEE_L1NE/pseuds/JUBILEE_L1NE
Summary: Except he couldn't even fathom lying to Tommy like that, they were close friends after all—he'd feel guilty. He wasn't some mastermind who'd be able to plot out just how to convince Tommy to believe him—Tommy wasn't an idiot.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/TommyInnit
Comments: 35
Kudos: 265





	' i think this time i'm dying '

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i have like, 29 ideas that'll be separate fics plotted out for this ship apparently, and that's out of the ones I haven't begun writing yet. i was kind of a lurker on pmcyt twt but a list dropped with my handle in it for listed problematic twts to block, so,,, if obviously i need to deliver some spicy content.
> 
> anyways, any hate comments will be deleted, sorry. also none of my fics are beta'd, mostly because I didn't think I'd ever post these(?)

It's not rare that he spends most of his spare time on calls, although it's rare to be alone in them. By that he means he's rarely had a one way call with someone unless it was something like calling for take-out. He doesn't count being in a discord call with someone alone, not usually—normally those calls are streamed to the world, or at very least anyone could walk into one and join. 

It's not rare he spends his time on calls, but it's rare those calls are actual _phone calls_. Not business related in the slightest, no, a personal call to his cell phone—from someone he couldn't willingly hang up on, or leave on read.

Tommy. 

He's too annoying to ignore, his twitter will instantly be spammed up if he even let's one call ring all the way through—for someone who claims he isn't clingy, Tommy is about as clingy as they get. 

For some reason Wilbur doesn't mind, though. Sure, once in awhile it can get annoying—but he almost felt special, considering it was rare the younger streamer decided to harass him for something. Now, usually these episodes of harassment happened over stream. 

But for some reason Tommy had just been deciding to call him during his spare time.

During lunch breaks at collage, well his mother was at the store. Hell, he even called well he worked on his Vods, Tommy always a little too quite and focused for any actual conversation. It was almost at the point where Wilbur wouldn't be surprised if Tommy called Wilbur every night just to say something cheesy, like _have crazy dreams, Big Man_. Almost. 

It wasn't _weird_ , not yet at least, because Wilbur hadn't seen a reason for it to be weird. Sure, Tommy was younger, but they hadn't crossed over any boundaries. Not really, at least. After all, it was just usually Tommy being Tommy, crude humor shared between a Discord—nothing weird. Nothing _wrong_. 

_Speaking_ of Tommy being Tommy, Wilbur wasn't sure how to respond when he heard a sharp inhale in his ears. He preferred having Bluetooth headphones on, free to roam around his house with his phone in his pocket well he listened to Tommy mumble out nonsense—but the sharp inhale wasn't followed with a wheeze, or a joke, or anything really.

Except a groan.

Wilbur's eyes shot open wide, his mouth parting open ever so slightly. Well, _that_ was a sound. A pretty little fucking sound, _honestly_ —although as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he glanced towards his TV, disgusted with himself.

The Netflix screen asking him whether or not he was still watching had been there for about a good hour, and instead of indulging in finding some shitty flick to watch he grabbed his remote, powering the TV off. With that he stood, heading towards his kitchen. 

He hears yet another groan, and fuck, if his breath hitches then at least he's _silent_ , unlike Tommy who still sounds crystal fucking clear.

"Tommy?" His voice works before his brain does, thankfully there isn't a tremble. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything stupid. Anything _inappropriate_. That doesn't mean his mind isn't going there. He can't help it, honestly—fuck, why is the kid even groaning in the first place? 

Soft little groans, too. Not proud, hey 'I'm alone and free to do whatever the fuck I want' kind of sounds a horny teenager would be likely to make well discovering themselves—no, these were silenced groans, soft little silenced groans.

The type you'd make well embarrassed, or the type you'd make well trying not to get caught. Was.. was _Tommy..?_

"Ugh, sorry, I just missed the past few fuckin' minutes Big Man, mind was wandering." Tommy's voice finally buzzes through his ears. Instantly his chest feels a tad bit warmer, stopping dead in his tracks he instinctively licks his lips, momentarily leaning up against his fridge door. 

The metal was cold pressed up against his side, but Tommy's only coherent sentence in what felt like hours made him feel _awkwardly_ warm.

"Yeah, uh, sure sounds like it." He says, choking out his words ever so slightly. He's out of his comfort zone now, straying far from it actually. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. Hell, any sane person would be able to confess whatever the fuck was happening was wrong, especially considering Wilbur hadn't hung up yet.

He could. Blame it on his _wifi_ going out. It'd be a lie, but it's the type you almost need to tell. Like Santa or the Easter Bunny—a lie with class, a necessary lie.

Except he couldn't even fathom lying to Tommy like that, they were close _friends_ after all—he'd feel guilty. He wasn't some _mastermind_ who'd be able to plot out just how to convince Tommy to believe him—Tommy wasn't an _idiot_. 

And sure, well Wilbur could write and plot thing's out for the SMP, he sure as hell couldn't plot out how to explain he had to run because Tommy was clearly _jerking it_ on call.

Sure, he had a horny teenager phase too, but he can't remember jerking himself off well on call with someone, _especially_ without the other person knowing. 

That didn't leave Wilbur with any set plan, considering he didn't hang up—and instead found himself lost in his own thoughts. 

What the hell was Tommy _thinking_ about. God, he wants to— _needs_ to know. What kind of shit was Tommy thinking about to earn a sound that _pretty_? _Who_ was he thinking about?

It had to have been him, as weird and irrational as it sounded—why else would he be doing it well on a call with him. If it was _Tubbo_ he wouldn't be sitting with his cock in hand, pumping it and letting out soft little muffled groans into Wilbur's ears, would he?

Did he want Wilbur to _hear_? Fuck, did he want Wilbur to point it out? It almost sounded like that by this point. It was almost a realistic possibility—yet the fact that Tommy was a minor still echoed around in his head. He's ahead of the game. 

He could end the call right now, could stop himself from thinking. Thinking about a _minor_ like this. 

A minor with soft little pink lips that just looked so smooth, God could only begin to imagine what they'd feel like against his fucking cock, bobbing up and down—Tommy would look so fucking _beautiful_ gagging on his length. 

"Holy fuckin' shit," Tommy groans out. _Groans_ out. If he wasn't convinced before he _sure_ as hell was convinced now—Tommy has been jacking off, _touching_ himself, doing it well on call with him. 

He can almost picture it. Tommy sitting in his little black leather gaming chair, legs spread open. He just managed to tear off his shorts and jeans, not even _bothering_ with his shirt. If anything his shirt would be rolled up ever so slightly, teasingly showing off his stomach.

A fucking _cock tease_ if it weren't for everything else rushing to Wilbur's safe haven of a headspace. 

One of his legs would be resting on one of the plastic arm chair handles, the other limp and thrown out in front of him. One hand would be wrapped around his cock, eyes filled with lust as he slowly pumped up and down. The other hand would be teasing his hole—poor kid probably didn't even have _lube_. 

Probably didn't even know how to properly fucking prep himself, let alone do much more then get a single finger in. 

Then again, Tommy always _impressed_ Wilbur—maybe he'd be wrong, maybe Tommy would show him just how wrong he was, managing to fuck himself with his own finger's.

He still wouldn't reach the right area's, still wouldn't be full enough—but it'd be impressive either way, just how eager Tommy is to please him.

"Tommy, if this is a _bad_ time—," It's a bad time. A bad fucking time if he stays any longer. He's going _insane_ —can't help but quickly blink away his thoughts. In no way shape or form should he be thinking about _Tommy_ like this, salmon jokes were one thing _but_ —

"It's not a bad time Wilbur," Tommy almost sounds frustrated. God, Wilbur was frustrated, eyes closing as he stood, side pressed against his fridge. This was wrong, so fucking wrong—why hasn't he just hung up already? "It's just— _FUCK_." 

Tommy screams. Wilbur can't help but imagine it, the poor boy twitching in his chair, stroking himself through his orgasm. God, imagining his gorgeous fucking blue eyes just rolling into the back of his head was too much, but the thought of Tommy having to bite down on something to contain his moan was actual _torture_.

" _Fuck me_ ," Tommy mutters out, the sound of his phone dropping onto the floor echoing through Wilbur's headset. 

God, how Wilbur wishes he could comply with Tommy's begging demand.

The torture only seemingly builds up, Wilbur slowly sliding down onto the floor, eyes wide with a painful fucking twitch to his cock. He hadn't even noticed how hard he had gotten, too taken back by the situation. He sounds so fucking _needy_ , and Wilbur can't help but have his own free hand slip down below his waistband. 

"Holy _shit_ what the fucking _hell_ , oh my God." It's loud now, he almost sounds like he's begging—a little fucking needy _whore_ unable to fully fuck himself, desperate for any kind of help. Fuck, if he could hear the little frustrated groans slipping out from Tommy's lips on the regular he'd be in pure fucking bliss.

His cock is actually twitching well he strokes it. He manages to spit into his other hand, needing to get rid of the unwanted friction. 

The sounds of Tommy attempting to grab his phone, frustrated, silenced words still spilling out—the only next audible sentence being, "Wilbur I'm going to _cry_."

Beautiful little tears slipping onto Tommy's cheeks that he could _kiss_ away—Tommy was probably a virgin, and at very least hadn't ever had anything properly inside him. God, how sinful it'd fucking be to see the kid's eyes widen well Wilbur prepped him, let alone the fucking moans that'd come out when he was being fucked into a wall. Or a bed, or _anything_ inbetween. 

Rough, gentle, a mix between the two—Wilbur really didn't fucking care as long as he could hear Tommy _begging_ to be fucked. 

Pretty little flushed Tommy, unable to actually get out a _coherent_ sentence because he's just too full. Little gasps as he dragged his nails over Wilbur's back and chest, leaving marks to prove it actually happened—he's trembling now, head pressed against his own shoulder. 

Fuck, he still hasn't responded to Tommy—

"What the _fuck_ is going on—." He manages to say, hiding a sharp deep breath with a stiff cough. Before Tommy can even respond he's got a hand pressed against his mouth, silencing a moan as he ruins his formally clean underwear.

Great, another fucking cum stain. 

"My fucking _software_ has been crashing for the past five minutes Wilbur, and my Computer just fuckin' blacked out _and_ —." Oh. Wilbur's eyes widened as he listened, mouth parted open ever so slightly. 

Right.

_Editing_. That's why Tommy had called, not wanting to be bored and alone—his father was on some business trip, a story Wilbur hadn't really found himself listening to when it first occurred. His mother on the other hand was out of town visiting his aunt, meaning he'd be alone for another few days. 

" _Mhm_ ," Wilbur mumbles, slowly taking his hand away from his face. "Uh, have you tried _restarting_ it?" He says, his voice sounding more confident by the second.

Mentally, though, he was panicking. He had just jacked off to the sound of his Mates voice—not to mention, he _vividly_ pictured scene's he definitely shouldn't have.

"It's not even responding to that, what the _fuck—."_ Tommy groans out again, and well it still sounds lewd coming from the blond's lips, Wilbur now realizes he just painted that fucking fantasy up in his mind.

He was _disgusting._

"Oh wait, I think a cord wiggled out from the back—hah! There we go! It's on and.. it's updating." Tommy goes through several emotions a mile a minute, and even well Wilbur happens to be wasting away in his own filth he can't help but softly smile.

Fuck, there must really be something wrong with him, considering he wouldn't take back anything he had been thinking—he stays on the call with Tommy for another hour, chatting as the other order's take-away for the second time today.

**Author's Note:**

> if you like my writing style you can also drop requests for one shots/full chapter fics! i may or may not do them! 
> 
> my ships include bowspam, tombur, schlatt/quackity, and tnt! but hey, i'm open to just about anything!


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